Sherlock Holmes and the Brilliant Daughter
by Karen Weasley
Summary: A woman and her daughter come to Holmes with information about Professor Moriarty, and a unique bond is formed between the child and Holmes. Follow the case that spans many years and reveals the true meaning of being a father.  Rated T just to be safe
1. Chapter 1

Of all the stories that I, Dr. John Watson MD, have recorded of the amazing Sherlock Holmes, the one that I am about to relate to you is perhaps the most strange. Those of you who are expecting a case similar to the one of The Hound of the Baskervilles, you will be disappointed for this case is not strange in the typical sense of the term; this case is strange for the unique response and consequences that followed it for my esteemed colleague.

It was a damp, foggy night in mid-August, and Sherlock Holmes and I had agreed to spend this evening at home. He was busy with some chemistry experiment or other, and I was putting the finishing touches on my latest story to go out for publication in the morning when Mrs. Hudson knocked upon our door. "Excuse me, sirs," she began apprehensively, "but there is a lady who wishes to speak with you, Mr. Holmes; she says it is most urgent."

"Well then let us not leave her waiting a moment longer! Show her in, Mrs. Hudson. Watson," he called to me across the room, "I should like it very much if you would lend your ears to our lady's story; I always find results come faster when two brains work on the same problem."

"I should be honored to be of any assistance," I replied, laying down my pen and turning to face him.

Less than a moment later, Mrs. Hudson reentered the room, closely followed by a woman in a clearly worn out dress and an even more worn out shawl. In one hand she held a small bag and in the other was clasped a hand belonging to a small girl dressed in similarly worn clothing. "Mr. Holmes?" the woman asked hesitantly once Mrs. Hudson had left the room.

"I am Mr. Holmes," he said, rising from his chair by the window, "and that is my friend and colleague Dr. Watson. Anything you would say to me may be said with the same confidence in front of him. Now, what can I do for you Ms.…?"

"Moran: my name is Mrs. Jennifer Moran, and this is my daughter Kaelyn." The child smiled and nodded to each of us politely.

"A pleasure, Mrs. Moran: what can I do for you?"

"Mr. Holmes…I-I didn't know who else to go to with my information. The police turned me away; they said it was of no importance, but I am convinced that it means something."

"Of what nature is this information?" Holmes asked, and I could tell he did not seem interested in the case at all.

"I believe that I have information concerning a man named Professor Moriarty," she said, lowering her voice.

Holmes's attitude changed in a matter of seconds. At her words, he sat up on the edge of his seat, and his eyes took on the brightened tone of adventure. "Please sit down, Mrs. Moran." She slowly sank into the nearest armchair and pulled her daughter up onto her lap. "Now, please tell me everything you know about Moriarty."

"It all began about a month ago. My husband gave up his job in the army, and we began to struggle with money. My husband, he hated to see us suffer, especially Kaelyn, and so he went every day to look for some type of work. Well, one day, he came home very late, this would have been about three weeks ago, and he just seemed…different."

"Different how?" Holmes asked, sitting back in his chair and placing his long fingertips together.

"He was so quiet…he had always told me everything, but that day, he just refused to say anything other than, 'I've found a solution.'"

By this point, little Kaelyn had slid off her mother's lap and had wandered over to the table where my latest story sat. During her mother's story, she slowly began flipping through the pages almost as if she were…

"Did your husband continue his strange behavior?" Holmes asked.

"Yes, and it only got worse as the days wore on. By the end of the week, he stopped coming home altogether; then the threats started coming."

"What kind of threats?"

"I won't sugar coat it Mr. Holmes; we were receiving death threats. I have found one each day with my mail, but the letters aren't being mailed; there is never a postmark, so someone has been sticking them in with the rest of my mail."

"Are the threats against just you, or do they involve your child as well?"

"It varies day to day. Sometimes they just involve me, but a couple of them have involved Kaelyn."

"How does all of this connect with Moriarty?" Holmes asked with a hint of impatience in his voice.

"Just before my husband stopped coming home, I had confronted him about where the money was coming from. He slapped me across the face and told me that I should be grateful; that Professor Moriarty didn't just give positions to anyone, and that I should watch my tongue if I valued Kaelyn's or my own life. When the threats started, all I had to do was connect the dots. Is there anything you can do for my daughter and me, Mr. Holmes?"

"Forgive me, Mrs. Moran, but it seems highly unlikely that Moriarty would employ a good man no matter how desperate he was. Are you sure you are telling me everything?"

"I have told you all I know!" Mrs. Moran cried, wringing her hands.

"I haven't, Mommy," came a small voice from behind me. We all turned to see Kaelyn staring fixedly at Holmes with a look of determination. "There's something I know that you don't about _him_."

There was something about the way she said 'him' that sent warning signals to both Holmes and myself; it was the tone often heard when a woman spoke of a man she hated. "Tell me what it is you know, my dear," Holmes said gently, moving to kneel in front of her. "Did he ever say anything to you that he wouldn't tell your mother?"

"No, he never really spoke to me at all," Kaelyn said with a tone much stronger than her age. "He hates me, Mr. Holmes."

"Kaelyn, that can't be true. Your daddy loves you," Mrs. Moran said soothingly.

"No he doesn't, Mommy. Whenever you would go out for food and he would be home, he would attack me. He gave me these," she said and pulled up the thin sleeves of her dress to reveal horrible bruises and cuts on both of her thin arms. "He said if I told he'd make Mommy go away forever," she told Holmes.

"Don't worry, my dear; I'm not going to let him do anything of the sort. Thank you for telling me what you know; you're a very brave girl." He stood up and walked over to whisper in my ear. "Take care of her injuries, will you old fellow? Some of them look infected."

"Of course Holmes," I said and went over to the child. "Hello Kaelyn, my name is Dr. Watson."

"I know who you are," she said with a smile. "You're the man who writes all the great stories. Is this the next one?" she asked pointing to the manuscript on my desk that she had been reading a few minutes before.

"Why yes it is," I replied astonished.

"Good: I really like those stories."

I smiled and leaned down to look her in her eyes which I now notes were a beautiful shade of light purple. "Kaelyn, will you come with me please? I want to make sure the cuts on your arms are healing alright."

"Ok," she said and accompanied me into my room, leaving Holmes and her mother to speak freely.

"You have quite an amazing daughter, Mrs. Moran. There are very few grown women that would have the courage to do what she has done. How old is she?"

"She will be five this October," Mrs. Moran replied, still shocked at her daughter's confession. "I don't understand why he would do that to her," she cried, wringing her hands.

"Hmmm…it certainly is strange," Holmes replied. "Very well, Mrs. Moran: I accept your case. I never pass up an opportunity to crack another ring in Moriarty's game. As for your daughter's protection, I suggest you keep her at home as much as possible and create a hiding place for her if anything should go wrong. Stock it with food as well as everything else she may need to survive for multiple days. I also recommend not leaving her alone at any point from now on."

"Thank you, Mr. Holmes! It calms my mind knowing that someone will help us. I must tell you, sir, she is quite an admirer of yours. She insists on reading the Strand every time another story is published and takes great delight in solving the mystery before the end. She is very bright…I only wish I could give her more."

"She is a strong girl; I am sure she will make her own way in this world."

At that moment, Kaelyn and I reentered the room, and she ran happily to her mother's side. "Are you sure you have told Mr. Holmes everything, Mommy? After all, even the slightest detail may be important when it comes to an investigation."

Mrs. Moran laughed and pulled her daughter close. "You see, I told you," she said to Holmes. "Yes, dear, I have told him everything, and he's going to help us."

Kaelyn clapped her hands with glee. "I finally get to see a story from the inside; this will be fascinating! Thank you, Mr. Holmes."

"You are very welcome, my dear," Holmes replied, smiling down at the young girl. "Please come and see me if you have anything new to tell me."

"We will, sir," Mrs. Moran said, smiling and taking her daughter again by the hand. "Come along, Kaelyn; we must be going now. Say good bye to Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson."

The small girl turned to the pair of us and nodded her head again. "Good bye Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson. Thank you for helping me with my arms, Dr. Watson."

"You are most welcome, my dear girl."

She smiled and waved as her mother gently pulled her from our rooms.

When they had gone, I turned to Holmes and saw a most peculiar expression on his face. "What is it, Holmes? Do you not trust her?"

"She certainly is keeping something from me; however, I do not doubt her motives in the slightest. It is clear that she loves her daughter, and that her safety is her first priority."

"Then what is it that is troubling you?"

"Her daughter…she is most perceptive for her age."

"Indeed she is," I replied earnestly. "Why, she told me that she has read every story I have ever published in the Strand: quite the amazing child."

Holmes merely nodded and returned his gaze to the window as he continued to smoke his pipe in thought.

Over a month went by with no further visits from Mrs. Moran, and I began to think that she and her little Kaelyn might finally be safe. Then, one day about a month after their visit to our rooms, Inspector Lestrade came calling.

"It's a pretty gruesome case, if I do say so myself, Mr. Holmes," he began. "Poor woman: so young and so beautiful she was. I would greatly appreciate it if you would come and take a look at the scene, Mr. Holmes; it's one of the best covered up cases of murder I've seen in years."

"Dr. Watson and I will be there within the hour, you have my word," Holmes said, rising and crossing to Lestrade.

True to our word, Holmes and I were walking through the doorway of the small house by the end of the hour. We found Lestrade along with several other policemen in the kitchen bending over the body of the victim. As we drew nearer, I recognized the beautiful young face of Mrs. Jennifer Moran.

"Dear God, Holmes!" I cried. "What have they done to her?" Mrs. Moran's body was covered in what appeared to be deep knife wounds yet none that would have been fatal on their own; she had been left to bleed to death.

"This is the traditional work of Moriarty's gang," Holmes said darkly. "She had to be made an example of for coming to me with information. I was afraid something like this would happen." He shook his head and sighed, and then he suddenly seized Lestrade by the arm and spoke in the tone I had come to associate with emergencies only. "Lestrade, I need every available policeman to help Dr. Watson and myself search this house immediately!"

"What is it you're looking for, Mr. Holmes?"

"This woman had a child; they were both in my rooms not more than a month ago. We must find out if the child is still here. Her name is Kaelyn."

I stared at Holmes with a look of surprise on my face. Of course, I was also worried about Kaelyn, but never had I seen Holmes so anxious in all our years of association. Within moments, we were all spread out around the house, searching for secret hiding places and calling the name of the child. I remained close to Holmes and watched as his brilliant mind faced the task before him. He quickly dismissed the bottom floor of the house as likely and hurried up the rickety stairs to where the bedrooms were. Now we traveled slowly from room to room searching for any evidence of someone being hidden. The last room we entered was Kaelyn's room. Here,

Holmes carefully examined every nook and cranny but still appeared to find nothing. However, he did not seem deterred and spoke from the center of the room quite calmly. "Kaelyn, dear, if you can hear me I need you to let me know where you are."

There was total silence for a moment, and then we heard a thumping noise coming from the wall behind the bed. Holmes sprang to the wall and instantly began feeling for a hinge. After a few seconds, Holmes cried out in triumph as he pressed on the wall so that the secret door sprang open. Sitting on the floor inside was little Kaelyn clinging tightly to a doll in one hand and a letter in the other. As soon as Holmes had opened the door enough, she came running out and straight into Holmes' arms. "Thank you for finding me, Mr. Holmes," she whispered.

"Not at all, my dear," he replied, holding her at arm's length to see if she was injured. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, but Mommy told me to give you this if you came to find me." She held out the letter for Homes who took it, read it, then handed it to me without a word, but a strange expression was present on his face as he did so. The letter read as follows:

_My dear Mr. Holmes,_

_If you are reading this, then I have already paid the price for not keeping silence. I want to thank you for your advice on protecting Kaelyn, and I can only hope that you take this letter from my daughter's living hand and not her dead one. The man I once called my husband must never find dear Kaelyn or else she will die. Under usual circumstances, I know that Kaelyn would be sent to an orphanage, foster home, or boarding school; this must not happen! That man has unlimited resources and will find her no matter where she is sent. Therefore, the only chance she has at living is staying with someone who knows the truth. You and Dr. Watson are the only people I have told of my plight. As unconventional as this request may be, Mr. Holmes, I ask you to please take my daughter in and raise her as your own. I know that you took a liking to her the moment you saw her; she is quite the charming child, and being only five years old, she will quickly forget everything that is past including me. I beg of you, as my last request, to please take care of her and nurture the talent that I know you see in her. Someday, when you believe she is ready, tell her the truth of what has passed and let her know how much I love her. I pray that everything will work out for the better._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Jennifer Moran_

I finished reading and looked up to see Kaelyn tugging on Holmes' coat. "Mr. Holmes, where's Mommy?"

Holmes knelt down in front of the child and gently took her hand in his own. "Kaelyn, dear, you have been such a strong girl and none of this is your fault."

"They killed her, didn't they?" she whispered. "I heard something strange downstairs, and when she didn't come up afterwards, I knew that's what had happened. What's going to happen to me now, Mr. Holmes?"

After a quick exchanged glance between Holmes and me, he turned back to the child with that strange look back in his eyes. "Your mother has requested someone to take care of you from now on. How do you feel about coming to live with Dr. Watson and me at Baker Street?"

Kaelyn's eyes became as wide as dinner plates. "Y-you mean it?" she exclaimed happily.

"Indeed I do," Holmes smiled. "Do you accept this arrangement?"

"YES! Of course I do!" Kaelyn squealed. "This is so exciting; I get to see how you solve a case firsthand. I've always wanted to learn how to do it. But, do you promise that this is what's going to happen? _He_ used to make promises all the time, but he never kept them."

Holmes put a hand on the girl's shoulder and locked his eyes onto hers with an intense gaze. "I promise you that you are going to live with me if that is what you want, and I never break a promise…ever. Do you trust me, Kaelyn?"

Kaelyn bit her lip and thought for a moment before looking back at Holmes and nodding. "I trust you," she said with a smile. "I wanna go home with you and Dr. Watson, please."

And so, all the arrangements were made; Kaelyn came to live with us at Baker Street, and no one was any the wiser as to where she came from. To those who asked, it was said that she was Holmes' niece, sent by Mycroft to learn how to be a detective. With all of his resources, Mycroft made this story quite a convincing one: paying an actress to support the story if asked, and forging a birth certificate for Kaelyn. The reader will remember how I previously said that Holmes had a strange connection with the girl from the very beginning; well, not even I realized just how deep that connection ran until several months into her living with us.

I had woken up in the middle of the night from the pain of my old war wound. When I entered the living room to get my bag from the cabinet, I noticed little Kaelyn sitting stone-still on the window seat, staring intently into the street. "Kaelyn? Sweetheart, what's wrong? Why aren't you asleep?"

"He went out again," she said, her eyes not moving from the street. "I heard him leave, even though I was supposed to be sleeping. I hate it when he goes out."

I moved and sat down beside her. "He only goes out so that he can solve his case. Remember, I mention it in a lot of my stories."

"I know," she said sighing. "It's just…I worry he won't come back."

"He always comes back," I said reassuringly. "No one in the entire world is smarter than Mr. Holmes."

Kaelyn merely nodded and continued to stare into the night. I realized that trying to get her back to bed until Holmes came back was nothing short of insane, so I simply joined her in her vigil. Finally, around six in the morning, we saw Holmes coming up the street. Kaelyn let out a sigh of relief and quickly stood up and turned to face the door. Within a minute, Holmes opened the door, and Kaelyn flew into him, wrapping her arms around his legs as she could reach no higher. "I'm so glad you're home!" she said.

Holmes stood paralyzed with shock at Kaelyn's greeting and looked quite awkward as he gently patted her head. "How did you know I was gone?"

"I heard you leave," she said as though it was obvious. "I heard someone outside my room and knew it had to be you. Uncle John's room is closer to this room than mine, so it couldn't have been him, and Mrs. Hudson's heels click when she walks by. That meant it had to be you going out again. I hate it when you leave at night."

"Sometimes I have to in order to solve a case," Holmes said as gently as possible.

"I know, but I still don't like it. It reminds me of when _he_ used to go out. Going out at night did something to him; he was nice to me before he went out late. I don't want you to start hurting me too," she said with genuine fear in her eyes.

Holmes' eyes clouded over slightly, and he bent and scooped Kaelyn up in his arms and carried her back to her room. Setting her gently down in the bed, he tenderly tucked her in again, and then bent to whisper in her ear. "It wasn't the night that made your father hurt you; it was the man that tricked him into working for him."

Kaelyn shook her head. "He was never my daddy," she said pointedly. "Daddies are people that love and take care of you, and they don't ever hurt you or leave you. He was never like that with me…I've never had a daddy."

"I promise that I will never ever hurt you, Kaelyn," Holmes said, lightly stroking her hair.

Kaelyn nodded and then her eyes glinted with a sudden idea. She reached behind her and pulled out the small doll she had been holding when we found her. "You said you never break promises, right?" Holmes nodded, and Kaelyn pushed the doll into his hands. "Every time you leave the house, you have to take her with you and promise to bring her back. That way, you have to come back to keep your promise, and you can't leave me."

Grey eyes that had never known tears began to water as they looked down at the nearly asleep girl and her doll. Holmes gently squeezed Kaelyn's hand as he bent and gave her a soft kiss on the forehead. "I will carry her with me every case I take," he promised. "I will not leave you alone."

He rose from the bed and got to the door before Kaelyn spoke the words that would forever change his life: "I love you, Daddy."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Kaelyn's POV  
>13 years later…<strong>_

"Kaelyn!" I heard Mrs. Hudson call from the kitchen. "Kaelyn, there's another policeman here asking for your father!"

I rolled my eyes and muttered under my breath all sorts of insults towards the entirely inept police force. I normally hated it when Father went away on long trips, but I found this one to be particularly irksome. Perhaps it was the length of time he had been away, or perhaps it was the fact that he had not warned me of it, but something about this absence had me very worried. I had continually told myself that I had nothing to worry about; Father had taken Uncle John with him and was no doubt perfectly fine. Still, it was quite a pain to have to deal with the police asking for information when I barely had more information than they did. The officer that greeted me at the door was the same as the others: bumbling their way through a case and curious to know what had taken the great Sherlock Holmes away from London for so long without taking me along. I told him the same thing I told the others; "Mr. Holmes is away, presumably on a case, and I have no idea where he is or when he will return. Now, I would appreciate it if you would tell your colleagues to end their pestering for I have promised repeatedly to phone the moment Mr. Holmes returns to London. I wish you the best of luck on your case, sir." Perhaps the most irksome visitor I received was Derek, Inspector Lestrade's son. Derek was an actor with the potential for much more but no drive to match. Father and I had often spoke of how bright and quick the boy was, and what a waste it was for him to remain an actor when he could be heading Scotland Yard. No doubt because of my father's current absence, Derek spent almost all of his free time trying to court me, but, having been trained well by my father, I rebuffed all his attempts.

My life had fallen into a pattern of restlessness over the past month. I spent many long hours on various science experiments or reading different classics in a vain attempt to distract my attention. I now understood what it was like for my father when there was no case to stimulate his ever busy mind. Having no companions aside from my uncle John and Father, I was left to my own company with the occasional meal with Mrs. Hudson or the off hour with Derek, and it was driving me slowly into insanity. More than anything I felt the old child in me returning when, late at night, I would wake from horrid nightmares of terrible fates befalling those I loved. For some time now, I had been aware that my father was on the trail of someone very evil. He had refused to give me details, saying that it was too dangerous, but I had managed to gather some information despite this. Somewhere in the great city of London, lurked a man by the name of Professor Moriarty: a brilliant mathematician with a mind to rival that of my father's. Apparently, his so called "gang" had sunk into the very heart of the city, and it was my father's growing obsession to eradicate them from existence. Therefore, the longer my father was gone on this venture, the more the child in me began to panic that he wasn't going to come back.

One day, I was sitting beside the window staring down into the street as I had so many times as a young girl, waiting for my daddy to come walking back up the street. Suddenly, I sat up straighter than I had in a long time and rubbed my eyes furiously: Uncle John! I ran down the stairs to the front door of our Baker Street home and cried to Mrs. Hudson that Uncle John was finally home. I vaguely heard her bustle around the kitchen making tea as I threw open the front door and leapt into my uncle's arms. He pulled me tight and returned the hug with just as much joy as I had in bestowing it, however, when I pulled away, I saw something strange in his kind eyes. Deciding to ignore it for the time being, I gently pulled him up the stairs and into the sitting room. Once he was seated, I regret to say that I began talking a mile a minute. "Oh it is good to see you, Uncle John! I had begun to wonder if you and Father were ever coming home. Where have you been? Why did no one think to tell me you were leaving? The police have been here almost every other day asking for Father, and I really had nothing to tell them; it has been most vexing. Although, I am sure Father will have a good excuse for his absence; he always does. Speaking of Father, where is he?"

Uncle John looked up at me with the saddest eyes I had ever seen, and my heart froze in my chest. He sighed and took my hands gently. "Kaelyn, darling…I think you had better sit down for this story." I sat down beside him and waited for him to begin. "About a month ago, your father came to my rooms in the dead of night and told me that he was leaving London for a time so that the police could nab Moriarty's gang. He knew his life was in danger, and he decided it would be safer to leave than try and stay and risk you in the process. I naturally offered to go with him, and he readily accepted my company. And so, we traveled all over the continent and quickly learned that the police had failed to capture Moriarty himself. We reached Switzerland, and it was here that Moriarty caught up with us. One day, we went for a walk to the Reichenbach Falls, but upon reaching the falls, I was called back to the hotel by a boy saying there was a sick English woman there who desired my presence." I felt my breath coming in shorter and shorter gasps as Uncle John's story continued, already having an idea what was going to happen but terrified to be right. "It took me so long to reach the hotel, but when I did get there, I found that the letter had been a trick. I rushed back to the falls, but it was at least two more hours before I got back…by then, it was too late."

"Uncle John…where is my father?" I asked desperately.

He hung his head and squeezed my hands. "When I got back to where he had been standing, I saw two sets of footprints leading to the edge of the cliff…there were none returning. I looked around and saw his stick leaning against the rock wall and above it was a few papers under his silver cigarette case. I took the papers down and saw that they were letters: one for myself and one for you," he handed me a folded piece of paper that I recognized to be from the notebook I had given my father for Christmas the year before.

With trembling hands, I took the letter and unfolded it.

_My darling Kaelyn,_

_For thirteen years now, I have treasured a great gift: you. Ever since the first moment I saw you I have known that there was something special about you. You know, perhaps better than anyone, my opinion of emotions particularly love. I must confess that you are the exception to my philosophy; I want you to know that I love you more than anything in this world. I will not lie to you, I was virtually certain that I would not return the night I left you at Baker Street almost a month ago. Perhaps it was wrong of me to not tell you more, but I also knew your devotion to me would not allow you to merely watch me leave knowing what I was walking into. This case has been very trying for me, and I hope that someday you will be able to understand me when I say that this was the only way for it to end. Some cases are not meant to ever be solved, and some cases are too strong for either detective or criminal to survive; this is one of those cases. I fear that the outcome of this case will cause you, my daughter, more pain than anyone else will understand. I pray you will not be angry with me for breaking my promise and not coming home. I know that no amount of my words will assuage the pain that you will feel upon reading this, and I only hope that you will not allow it to break you. You have such a wonderful future before you, and it is my only regret that I will no longer be a part of that future. I must tell you that it is to you that I owe any happiness in my life. Without you, I never would have known half of the joys this world has to offer: thank you. Remember forever that I love you and would not have traded these years with you for anything in this world. Farewell, my precious angel._

_All my love,_

_Your Father_

As I reached the end of my father's letter, I felt tears stinging my eyes and burning a path down my cheeks. My father, the greatest detective the world has ever known, the man who had saved me from pointless existence, and the man who had come to mean more to me than anyone or anything else, was dead: gone from my life forever. I continued to stare at the letter even after my eyes became too clouded for me to see anything, and my hands shook beyond all condolence. The stories I read spoke of people having their hearts broken, and I had often wondered what that would feel like; now I understood. I had not realized that I wasn't breathing until I heard the terrible noise that issued from my throat upon my body demanding oxygen. Not knowing what else to do, I rested my aching head upon the palm not holding the letter and allowed my sobs to echo through the house. Within seconds, I felt Uncle John's arms around me, and I heard Mrs. Hudson running up the stairs. When she reached the room, I knew that Uncle John gave her a brief summary of the tale he had told me so that she would understand my current state. It was odd; for weeks now all I had done was crave company, and now that I had it…all I wanted was to be alone. I pushed myself away from the couch and bolted into my bedroom, slamming the door behind me and locking it tightly. I turned and faced the bed with every intention of throwing myself upon it until I remembered, as if I was watching it happen before my eyes, a night long gone by when I had first called Holmes "Daddy", and he had promised to never leave me like my other fathers had done. Yes, although Holmes had never confirmed or denied it, I knew that the man who had lived with me before my mother died was not my real father. After years of cases, I knew the telltale signs of a family where the child was to a different parent, and my life had been a textbook example of that. I didn't know who my real father was, and frankly, I didn't care; as far as I was concerned, my real father was Holmes…and now he was gone as well. Everyone I had ever cared for had left me; my mother died protecting me, Uncle John left and got married, and now my father was gone too…I was totally alone. Once this terrible realization set in, I sank down on the floor by the door and cried until I fell asleep where I sat.

Over the next few years, many people came to see me and offer their sympathies for my father's passing. I saw many of the boys that had once been called the Baker Street Irregulars, various officers (both retired and active) from Scotland Yard, old clients, people he had cleared of charges that had been falsely pressed, my Uncle Mycroft, and most surprisingly, Irene Adler. I had, of course, heard of the remarkable woman that had bested my father and was absolutely delighted to finally meet her. Unbeknownst to my father, I had idolized her for a while, but because of her brains, not her style of life. We became fast friends, and she made multiple visits to Baker Street that greatly lifted my sunken spirits. Derek Lestrade also continued to make frequent visits, although his tone had definitely softened and calmed in comparison to what it had been before. He told me one day that he had decided to leave the stage and become a detective for the Yard mostly because of my urging. The news flattered me beyond belief, and I realized that I might actually have feelings for the man that had once driven me out of my mind. I began allowing him to escort me to events such as concerts, stage shows, and even dinner once or twice.

Despite all my efforts, nothing could fill the void left by my father, not even my new friendship with Irene Adler or my blossoming relationship with Derek. The locket Father had given me on my sixteenth birthday that I had previously only worn on very special occasions now never left my throat, and his last letter to me was always tucked into a hidden pocket on my dress. I had refused to move out of Baker Street and also refused to redecorate at all, preferring to leave everything exactly the same. Perhaps my greatest solace came in the form of my father's violin: his most treasured item aside from Uncle John and myself. Hardly a day went by that I did not pick up the instrument and play something in an attempt to calm my mind and assuage the grief that constantly ate at my heart. I missed him terribly, and for three long years I remained this way: confused, broken, and unsure what to do next. Then came the strange case of the murder of the honorable Ronald Adair, and my whole world was once again thrown upside-down.


	3. Chapter 3

**I do not own Sherlock Holmes, Dr. Watson, or **_**The Adventure of the Empty House**_**. Enjoy!**

_**Dr. Watson's POV  
>3 years later…<strong>_

It was spring of the year 1894, and all London was interested, and the fashionable world dismayed by the murder of the honorable Ronald Adair. The case itself was most unusual, but its surprises were nothing to me compared to the inconceivable sequel, which afforded me the greatest shock and surprise of any event in my adventurous life. Those three years since Holmes had disappeared had been difficult on Kaelyn to say the least. The poor girl had spent all of her time either sitting at home or running around with Lestrade's son, Derek, solving cases in an attempt to fill the void left by her father. I was pleased with her relationship with the boy, and I hoped that he would someday be the man to heal her broken heart. As for myself, I also turned my attention to crime after Holmes' death, sometimes attempting to solve cases in much the same way he had done; needless to say, I failed miserably. Still, no other case appealed to me as much as this strange death of Ronald Adair.

The day after the crime, I was returning home from my rounds (I had taken up my old practice) and found myself outside the very home that had been the subject of my thoughts for most of the day. By this point in the day, a large crowd had gathered outside the Park Lane mansion. As I drew closer, I noticed that many of these people had surrounded what appeared to be a plain-clothes detective. I moved nearer to hear what he had to say, but his observations seemed to me so ridiculous that I drew back in disgust, and in the process, I bumped into an elderly gentleman carrying a large stack of books. I bent and picked up the books and tried to apologize, but the man merely growled at me and ran off hurriedly through the crowd.

I thought no more of this strange event until later that day when I had returned to my home, and my maid came into my study to tell me that there was a man who wished to speak to me. To my surprise, it was none other than the strange old book collector. "Pardon me for intruding my good man, but I was on my way back to my shop when I happened to see you enter this house, and I thought to myself, 'I'll just pop in and see that kind gentleman and thank him for picking up my books and apologize for my gruff manner.'"

"You make too much of a trifle," I said. "May I ask you how you knew who I was?"

"Well, sir, if it isn't too great a liberty, I am a neighbor of yours for you will find my bookshop on the corner of Church Street and very happy to see you, I am sure. Maybe you collect yourself, sir; here's _British Birds_, and _Catalase_, and _The Holy War_. Oh a bargain every one of them: with just five volumes, you could easily fill that gap on the second shelf. It looks untidy does it not, sir?"

I turned my head to look at the shelf behind me, and when I had turned again, I saw Sherlock Holmes standing before me. Upon this shock, I believe I fainted for the first and last time in my life; certainly a grey mist swirled before my eyes, and when it cleared, I found the ends of my collar undone and the tingling aftertaste of brandy upon my lips.

"My dear Watson!" he cried, "I owe you a thousand apologies! I had no idea you would be so affected."

"Holmes!" I gripped his sleeve and felt the thin, sinewy arm beneath it. "Well, you're not a spirit anyhow. Oh my dear chap, I am overjoyed to see you! How on earth did you escape from that terrible abyss?"

"Wait a moment; are you sure you are fit to speak of such things? I have given you a most terrible shock by my unnecessarily dramatic appearance."

"I am perfectly fir to hear all you have to tell." And so, Holmes began his amazing tale with the condition that I join him that evening for whatever he needed me for. When he had finished, only one question remained in my mind. "Have you seen Kaelyn since you returned?"

Holmes' eyes clouded over slightly, and he shook his head. "I have not. Mrs. Hudson told me she was out with the police when I was at Baker Street. That was part of the reason for my being at Park Lane earlier; I was hoping to see her at work."

"Well," I said with a slight laugh, "being with the police could have meant she was out with young Derek Lestrade. You remember the boy, don't you? A year after you left, Kaelyn managed to convince him to become a detective, and he is now the best at the Yard. He and Kaelyn have become very close friends."

I saw Holmes nod sharply as he stood up and began gathering his things. "We must be going now, Watson. We still have our prey to catch."

With that, we were off, rattling through the streets of London just as we had done so many times before. Soon, Holmes and I got out of the cab and set off on foot before winding up in an old, abandoned house. We settled in one of the rooms in the upper story, and Holmes whispered in my ear. "Do you know where we are?"

"Well surely that is Baker Street."

"Exactly. We are in Camden House which is situated directly across from our old quarters. Might I ask you to draw a little nearer to the window, taking every precaution not to show yourself? Let us see if three years has completely taken away my power to surprise you."

I peered through the window and saw, silhouetted against the shade, an outline of a person that was incredibly familiar: Holmes. I reached out and seized his arm to make certain that the real man was indeed beside me, so accurate was the replication.

"Well, what do you think?" he asked, shaking with laughter.

"Good heavens, it is marvelous!" I cried, putting the pieces of our plan together. The criminal Holmes was after would think the dummy was Holmes, allowing us to capture him. It all seemed perfect, but… "Holmes!" I cried suddenly. "What should happen if Kaelyn returns before we have our man?"

"I had already thought of that. Mrs. Hudson said that she does not normally return until well after midnight, and if she does return early, Mrs. Hudson has promised to keep her away from the living room until we are finished."

For many hours we sat, silent, in that room waiting for something to happen. As they hours dragged on, I began to sense Holmes' restlessness; three years had apparently not soothed his limited patience. I had been looking out the window, when I saw two figures approaching Baker Street, and I recognized them as Kaelyn and Derek. I nudged Holmes and pointed to the couple; his nerves appeared to relax for a fraction of an instant as he watched the two move closer to 221B. At the gate, they paused and spoke for several minutes before Derek bent to kiss her hand, and Kaelyn went inside. "Quite the gentleman, eh Holmes?" I said, but Holmes suddenly hushed me and stood rigid, listening with all his might to something I could not yet hear.

He shoved me into the darkest corner of the room, and I finally heard what his heightened senses had already detected; someone was in the house with us. Whoever it was, they were coming up the stairs and into the room where we laid hidden. I pulled out my revolver and made ready to spring, but the man had no inkling of our presence. He made busy with some sort of gun, raised the window, and aimed the gun at the shadow across the street. I heard a strange whizzing noise then the tinkling of shattered glass just as Holmes leapt onto the man's back. Despite the element of surprise, the man quickly had Holmes on the ground and was attempting to choke him, but I struck the man on the head with the butt of my revolver. The man slumped to one side, and I threw myself on top of him just as Holmes blew a sharp call on a whistle. Several policemen burst into the room, followed by a plain-clothes detective, and Inspector Lestrade.

"Is that you, Lestrade?" Holmes called.

"Yes it is, sir; I took the job me self. It's good to see you back in London, sir."

Holmes pulled down the blind as the policemen uncovered their lamps so we could get a look at our prisoner. "Well, well, well, Colonel Moran: it's been too long," Holmes said to the man. "I don't believe I've seen you since you favored me with those attentions at Reichenbach Falls."

Colonel Moran tried to make a leap for Holmes, but the police held him back. "You fiend…you clever, clever fiend!" he hissed.

After a brief time, during which it was revealed how Moran came into possession of the gun, Lestrade made ready to take the Colonel away, but Holmes stopped him.

"The only thing that remains is the question of what charges are to be pressed, Lestrade."

"What charge, sir? Why, the attempted murder of Mr. Sherlock Holmes, of course."

"Not so, Lestrade. I don't suggest to appear in the matter at all. To you and to you only belongs the credit for this great capture. Yes, Lestrade: through your usual method of cunning and ability, you've got him."

"Got him: got who, Mr. Holmes?"

"The man who is responsible for the death of the Honorable Ronald Adair as well as Mrs. Jennifer Moran from all those years ago."

At this, Colonel Moran's head shot up. "I did not kill that woman."

"Perhaps not, but you are still responsible for giving the information that caused her death," Holmes said, his eyes flashing. "You are also responsible for orphaning her child."

Colonel Moran laughed an evil laugh. "The only person responsible for orphaning that girl is you, Mr. Holmes. She still had a father until you got in the way. You know just as well as I do the true lineage of that girl, and I know how it tortures you even now."

"Here now," Lestrade said sharply. "If you don't want Mr. Holmes jibing at you, then I suggest you don't jibe at him." With that, Lestrade and the policemen left the room, pulling Moran along behind them.

Holmes merely stood in the center of the room, staring blankly at the place where Moran had been. I had no idea what to say to him as I had no idea what it was that was troubling him. The only thing I could think of that would trouble him so was what Moran had said about Kaelyn's true parentage. I had long known, of course, that the man who had lived with her was not her real father, but no one had ever tried to find out who her real father was. Kaelyn herself had told us not to, saying that she was happy and wished to remain so. Stepping closer to Holmes, I grasped his shoulder and shook him slightly. "Holmes?" I said. "Holmes! It's time to go home. I know Kaelyn will be overjoyed to see you."

Holmes blinked once and nodded to me before sweeping out of the room and out of the house. We crossed the street and slipped into our old Baker Street lodgings. As we climbed the stairs towards the living room, we could hear Kaelyn yelling about the broken window. "…after midnight! What fools are playing with air rifles in the middle of a street this late at night? And what is this wax model of my father doing here? Is this someone's idea of a joke?"

"No, miss," I heard Mrs. Hudson sooth. "You're Uncle Mycroft had it made as a present for you."

"Well, it's ruined thanks to those hooligans!" I hurriedly knocked on the door to put a stop to her rant. "Who on earth could that be? You don't think Derek was here when the shot was fired, do you? I hope he wasn't; he always worries so." Mrs. Hudson opened the door, and I quickly entered the room alone for the moment. Kaelyn was standing by the window in her nightdress with a robe tied tightly over it. She looked surprised when she saw who it was but hurried over to bestow a hug before beginning to speak again. "Oh, Uncle John: what a surprise. What is it that has brought you here at this late hour?"

"Well my dear, I received a visitor who very much wanted to see you and said that they could not wait until the morning."

"Who?" Kaelyn asked confused.

I turned and gestured towards the door as Holmes stepped over the threshold. For a moment, no one moved or said a word. Kaelyn stood as though petrified, staring wide-eyed at Holmes. "Your father," I finally said with a smile.

Kaelyn took several small steps forward. "My father?" she said breathlessly. She sank down on the couch and shook her head. "I must be dreaming, or else I've gone insane. My father died at Reichenbach Falls three years ago; you said so yourself, Uncle John! How dare you bring a man here to pretend and crush my broken heart all the more?"

"He is no actor, child," I said soothingly. "I was wrong about what I saw that day. Your father survived that confrontation with Moriarty. He really is here, Kaelyn."

"No…no, no, no he can't be!" she said, her shoulders and words shaking with sobs.

"Kaelyn…" Holmes whispered, moving past me to sit beside her on the couch.

She looked up at him with shimmering eyes that begged for this to not be a lie. "Please…" she whimpered. "Please prove to me that you really and truly are my father!"

Holmes reached into his coat pocket and pulled something: her old doll. He gently placed it in her hands. "I've brought it back to you…just as I promised."

Kaelyn looked at the doll in her hands and burst into tears before throwing her arms around the man sitting beside her. "It _**is**_ you!" she screamed with joy. "Oh Father…"

He pulled her close and held her tightly as though neither wished for the moment to ever end. I stood off to the side with Mrs. Hudson, beaming at the sight before us. When they finally pulled apart, Kaelyn ran her hands all over Holmes' shoulders, face, and arms as though proving to herself beyond all doubt that he really was sitting beside her.

"Where have you been? How did you survive? Why didn't you tell me you were alright before now?"

"Shhhh…" Holmes soothed, smoothing her hair away from her face. "There will be plenty of time to answer all your questions tomorrow, but right now-"

"Father…" she interrupted. "What is troubling you? I see pain in your eyes when you look at me…what is it?"

Holmes sighed and beckoned me to sit down in a nearby chair. "You may stay as well, Mrs. Hudson, for you, too, have been involved closely with the situation. My dear," he said, returning his gaze to Kaelyn. "I know that you once told me to look no further into the truth of your past. Allow me to say that I did not intentionally search for the information I am about to divulge. I came across it quite by accident while investigating Moriarty's gang." He took a deep breath and began. "I was looking into the link given to me by your mother all those years ago as it was one of the few I had. Knowing that her married name was Moran, I asked all I spoke to if the name sounded familiar to them. One man said that he remembered hearing of a Colonel Moran that had recently joined the gang because he needed the money. Moriarty had moved him quickly through the ranks due to his skill with strange weapons. The more I delved into the story, the more I learned about the man you once called your father. He had grown quite close to Moriarty: close enough to discuss his family. It is because of this that Moriarty became alerted to the whereabouts of your mother and your existence. I thought that Moriarty had only killed your mother because she came to me with information, but I was wrong. When I met him at the Reichenbach Falls and asked him for a few moments to write farewell notes to my colleague and daughter, he laughed at me. 'Your daughter?' he said. 'She is no more your daughter than she is Moran's. You have long wondered why he hated her so near the end; well, it is because he learned of his wife's lie. You see, Mr. Holmes, she had been with me before him.'" Kaelyn had begun shaking her head again, and I found myself unable to breathe. "'You think her gifts are mere chance, but you are mistaken. That girl that you call your daughter is really _**my**_ daughter, Mr. Holmes. So now you may die knowing that although I am gone and my associates arrested, there is still a remnant of me living in London that you cannot destroy.' I refused to believe what he said was true: perhaps the first time in my career I allowed my emotions to take over. However, in the intervening three years, I looked into his claims and unfortunately discovered them to be true. Your mother was once with Moriarty, but she left him before she knew she was pregnant with you. She married the Colonel and managed to convince herself that the child was his until Moriarty came back into the picture, and she could no longer deny it."

Kaelyn swallowed several times before finding her voice again. "If this is true…why didn't Moriarty try to kill me long ago?"

"When Watson and I left London, I believe Moriarty set someone to follow you with orders to kill you if he did not return to England."

She nodded slowly. "There was a man…Derek caught him the day before Uncle John came home. Derek and his father were leaving when Derek leapt into the bushes and came back out with a strange man by the collar. Of course, they arrested him because he had a gun, but it all makes more sense now. So…my real father is Professor James Moriarty: the Napoleon of Crime…" she whispered.

Holmes turned away from her, Mrs. Hudson stifled her tears, and I buried my face in my hands for a moment. No wonder Holmes had been so distraught at Moran's parting words. I could not believe that our sweet, kind Kaelyn had been sired by that horrible man.

"Father…" Kaelyn began again, and Holmes turned to face her with a look of apprehension on his face. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" he asked.

"I'm sorry because I am a constant reminder of the most evil man to walk the streets of London. If it were my choice, I would still tell the world that I am your daughter, but I understand if you no longer wish me to do so."

Holmes seized her hands and fixed her with a piercing stare. "I care not what blood it is that runs through your veins! You are the only person in the world that could ever touch that piece of my heart I thought I had eliminated forever. Your name is Kaelyn Holmes; you will always be my daughter, and I will always love you as such!" He cupped her cheek gently and smoothed away the tears that had begun to fall from her eyes.

"I love you too, Father!" Kaelyn cried and threw herself into his arms for the second time that night.

They remained that way for a long time, and I looked on with a broad smile. From that moment on, I knew, no matter what the years would throw at them, these two had a bond that none could ever break or hope to match.

**Lily S. Brett: You were my first review ever, so thank you so very much for that! Thank you for the compliment also; I hope you enjoyed this chapter :)**

**TennisQueen12: I'm glad you enjoyed the earlier chapters. Thank you very much for the compliments; it means a lot to me, especially that you think this is a decent Holmes story. I really appreciate your opinions, and I hope I didn't let you down with this chapter :)**

**Due to several requests, I have decided to write more about Kaelyn and some of the cases she played a part in. However, I don't want to put them with this story so they will be published under the title "The Casebook of Kaelyn Holmes". The stories that I use are either based on the original stories or films with Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce (my personal favorites and the Holmes and Watson my characters are based on). After I finish with those stories, I will publish the final chapter of this story. I'm sorry for the wait, but I've been trying to plan it all out before I write it, and some of them take more time than others. While I finish the first part, here's a list of the stories I plan on using. What do you think?**

**Dressed to Kill (film)**

**The House of Fear (film but based on The Five Orange Pips)**

**The Hound of the Baskervilles (film and book)**

**The Woman in Green (film)**

**The Dying Detective (book)**


	4. Chapter 4

_**I'm really sorry I took so long to update this story, but the muse sort of left me for a while. I still plan on writing the Casebook, but it might not be right away. I hope you enjoy the last chapter in this story **_

It was a sunny afternoon during the month of August, and Holmes was sitting comfortably on the porch of his retirement home in Sussex. It had been many years since his last case as a consulting detective, and he had been thoroughly enjoying his time studying bees. Watson had returned to his practice, and Kaelyn had taken over as the "Holmes of London", but she wasn't working alone.

He remembered the day, almost a year after his return that Derek Lestrade had come to see him with a very serious question in mind.

"_Mr. Holmes, I came here today for several very important reasons. First, I would like to thank you for all the help that you and Kaelyn have given me. I owe you both all the success that I've enjoyed so far."_

"_You've earned it," Holmes said with a small smile. "I, too, must thank you for helping Kaelyn while I was away."_

"_Well, sir, I must admit, it did take some work before she let me help her; she's as stubborn as you are."_

_Holmes smiled secretively. "And the other reason for your visit is?"_

"_Well, sir, this one is a lot more personal. I…" he swallowed hard and took a deep breath. "I know how much Kaelyn means to you, and I know how much you mean to her. The last thing I want to do is damage the connection that only recently was repaired, but I was wondering if I could maybe make my own connection with her." Holmes was silent and focused on his interlocked fingers. "What I'm really asking, Mr. Holmes, is permission to marry your daughter."_

_Holmes was silent for a moment, and Derek's face began to show his worry at the silence. "Has Kaelyn given you any indication that she is remotely interested in the idea?" Holmes finally asked._

"_I have been courting her since several months after your disappearance, and she seemed to be quite happy with me. I only waited because I wanted to secure my position at the Yard so I could support her in case people wouldn't come to her because she was a woman and to try and give her time to mourn properly. When you returned, I delayed further because I knew she would want to spend more time with you. Please sir: I love Kaelyn very much, and I want to marry her."_

_After standing up and pacing several times in front of Derek, Holmes finally faced him with an unreadable expression. "This decision is one that I admit I did not foresee. I have never really expressed this before to anyone, but you must know how much Kaelyn means to me."_

"_I understand that, sir. You must believe me when I say that I have no desire to take her away from you, and, to be perfectly frank with you, I don't think I could even if I wanted to. Kaelyn would kill me herself if I tried."_

"_Quite true," Holmes laughed quietly. "Well Mr. Lestrade, I do hope you know what you are letting yourself in for because I grant you permission to marry my daughter."_

"_Oh thank you so much Mr. Holmes!"_

The wedding had been beautiful but simple at Kaelyn's request. To everyone's great surprise, Kaelyn had invited Irene Adler, and the greater surprise was that she came. Very few members of the general public knew of the union because both kept their original last names to prevent either one being used against the other at any point. Kaelyn had continued to work alongside her father, and Derek had continued his work at the Yard for many years. You can imagine Holmes' surprise and joy when, one day, Kaelyn had come home beaming.

"_Father," she had begun slowly, "I have some important news to tell you."_

"_What is it Kaelyn?"_

"_I've just come from the doctor's, and he said that I'm pregnant. You're going to be a grandfather in less than a year."_

Nine months later, Kaelyn had given birth, to both hers and Derek's great surprise, two beautiful, healthy, baby girls. She had named them Mary and Irene after Watson's wife and the woman who had become almost a mother to her. Holmes loved both of the girls dearly as did Watson. As they grew up, it was clear that they had inherited their mother's brains and their father's charm: a deadly combination.

When Holmes had finally decided to retire, he had had a long talk with both Kaelyn and Derek. It had finally been decided that the couple would move into 221B, and Kaelyn would take over. Kaelyn had been most upset to lose her father's company and advice on every case to walk through the door, and it had taken some time for people to come to her like they had for her father. Nevertheless, she had persevered, and Holmes had taken great delight in reading about her success in the papers. She would, occasionally, get a rather difficult case and send him telegrams asking for advice which he would readily give, but the job was safely in her hands.

Every Christmas she brought her whole family plus Watson out to Sussex for the holiday with him, and it was what he looked forward to more than anything else all year. Sometimes, if they weren't busy, she would come and visit at other times as well, and this day was one of those times. She was bringing Mary and Irene, now seven and spitting images of their mother, Derek, and Watson out for a few days of rest. She had just come off a rather tough case that had taken her away from London for several weeks, and she was most anxious for the relaxation Holmes' house brought her.

Holmes' whole person straightened when he heard the unmistakable sound of a cab rolling along the road that led to his house and slowly made his way to the end of the driveway. As soon as the cab stopped moving, the door was flung open to reveal his twin granddaughters leaping out and running straight for him. Kneeling down and bracing himself, he managed to contain both of them in his arms without falling over.

"We've missed you, Grandpa!" they chorused in his ears.

"I've missed you too, my dears. You look more and more like your mother every time I see you. How are your lessons coming?"

"Very well," Mary said beaming.

"Father just started teaching us chemistry," Irene said proudly. "It's my new favorite!"

"Yes it'll be a miracle if the house is still intact when they're done," Derek laughed as he emerged from the carriage. "It's good to see you again, Father," he said shaking Holmes' hand. "Why don't you two take your bags up to the house and go see Uncle John?"

The twins were off like shots from a pistol, and Derek followed them slowly with the other luggage. "They may look like me, but they definitely have your enthusiasm, Father," Kaelyn said as she climbed out of the carriage. She ran straight into her father's arms as though she were a child again. "I've missed you so much lately. I think it was because I was away, and it reminded me of all the times we traveled together. How are the bees doing?"

"They're doing beautifully," Holmes replied, walking up to the house with Kaelyn. "How is everything in London?"

"Same as always," Kaelyn said with a smile. "I always find it looks so much more beautiful after you've been away. I certainly haven't had a problem with business."

"I knew you wouldn't," Holmes said with a small laugh. By this time, they had all reached the house and could see the twins still attached to Watson.

"Alright girls, go get unpacked and let Uncle John catch his breath," Kaelyn said gently, and both girls let go and ran for their room. "Sorry about that, Uncle John. They've been really high spirited lately. I think they've been spending too much time alone with their father."

"I like that!" Derek called from a room down the hall. "You're the one who gets like that every time we get a new case. They learned from you, Kae."

Watson was merely laughing as he hugged her. "It doesn't matter to me who they learned it from; I love them both. But if you really want my opinion, I think they learned it from both of you."

The afternoon passed very enjoyably for all of them. Derek was playing with the girls in the spacious yard, Watson had fallen asleep in his chair on the porch, and Kaelyn was enjoying a long-awaited game of chess with her father. "I am very proud of you, my dear," Holmes said suddenly as he watched the twins chasing their father around the yard. "You have done very well for yourself."

"Thank you, Father. I'm very happy with my life, although, I still miss you being in London."

"There are days when I miss it as well, but those are usually the days you decide to send me a telegram with a case, and I have a puzzle to solve again."

Kaelyn laughed. "I know you'll go insane without them. Retirement was never really an option for you, Father. Not entirely at any rate."

"You are quite right, my dear, but I have come to enjoy the quiet more than I originally thought."

"Perhaps I should stop bringing my family here then. We're louder than the whole of London when we want to be," she teased.

"You know exactly how much I enjoy your visits and how sad I would be without them," Holmes replied sternly.

"Yes Father…I know," she whispered gently.

Following dinner that evening, the whole group was gathered in Holmes' large sitting room just enjoying each other's company, when Irene suddenly sat up and looked at her uncle John. "Uncle John, could you read us one of your stories?"

Watson looked at Holmes then at Kaelyn and only when both of them had nodded their consent did he reach beside him and pull out a yellowing edition of The Strand and begin the story of The Empty House. This was one of the girls' favorites because it was the first that featured their whole family. By the end of the story, both girls were asleep on their father's lap. Kaelyn stood up and picked up Mary while Derek carried Irene to their room and tucked them in. Several hours later, the adults went to bed as well.

Around three in the morning judging by the level of darkness, Kaelyn awoke to hear one of her girls, Irene most likely, crying in her room. She got up silently and crossed the hall, but before she could get to her daughters' room, she heard the unmistakable sound of her father's violin. Sticking her head into the room, she saw her father in an armchair with Irene on his lap as he played soothingly. Within a few moments, Irene had calmed out of her fear, and Holmes set down his violin and carried her back to bed. "Nightmares are like criminals," she heard her father say. "You must be smarter than the criminal and never let him win."

"Just like you and Mother," Irene said with determination.

"That's right, Irene. Now, you go back to sleep and catch that scoundrel."

Irene curled up and was asleep within seconds. Holmes quietly exited the room and smiled at Kaelyn. "Thank you for helping her," Kaelyn said in a whisper.

"I used to do that with you when you were young," he replied with a faraway look. "You used to have nightmares all the time when you first arrived."

"I remember," she said. "It all seems so long ago."

"Not to me," Holmes said with a sad smile. "To me, it seems like only yesterday you would sit up and wait until I was home before you would go to bed. You made my career more enjoyable, Kaelyn. I love you very much, my daughter."

"I love you too, Father," she replied hugging him as she had as a child all those years ago.

Of all they mysteries that were ever placed in front of the great Sherlock Holmes, the one he could never solve was the one that brought him the most joy and contentment. His world was turned upside down the day a small girl walked through his door at Baker Street, and nothing was the same ever again. He watched that girl grow into a beautiful and intelligent woman, marry, and raise a family of her own. Until the day he died, he knew he would always love her and be proud to call her Kaelyn Holmes: his brilliant daughter.


End file.
